Word Vomit of the Imaginary Traveler

I have gone on many paper adventures, pages and pages of text have carried me up and up, far, far away. Daydreams and sleepy dreams have comforted my thoughts and set an imaginary trail behind me. Footsteps through cobblestone pathways, sipping dark coffee, following lamppost moons. Then tracking through snowy banks, heavy feet and runny nose, breathing in crisp frost, windy tears wiping away snowflakes that land on cheeks. Sun baked faces turning red as gazes are lifted, trailing the side of ancient monument and sand castle. Silk or linen draped across wandering eyes, highlighted colours amongst sepia and terra cotta. Crickets keeping souls awake in the night, a reminder to feed the fire to keep the warmth from escaping the tent, so that catching fireflies is a little bit more interesting. Though harder to see them in flame light, it is better for roasting marshmallows. Stopping by a stream to sip or splash water in the cracking faces and worn boots. Stopping by the side and peeling off jackets to rest heads on, stones to prop tired feet upon. And finally listening to ocean swells with active ears and quiet faces, being sprayed with salty mist. Then to squish toes in the sand when the water has not covered them, scraping a heal on a little shell, a tiny home built in repetitive beauty, swirling and twirling curves. The shell made of soft pinks and yellows, like the canvas stretching far beyond the rolling and bouncing waves, going going on until hidden by blues, lighter, then darker, then burst of silver overhead. Twinkle to preserve some light for walking home in, howls to bid goodnight.

TDM

Wings and Tied

It has been a long time

Since I have listened to chirping or

A flutter

A far cry from usual territory

Out of range by a long

Shot

 

Beats

Like a propeller, where there is a chill

In the air

Retreat

Or do not if your bones permit

If your fragility

Has not caught up with you

And your garb is puffed and fluffed

 

In flight you are

Formidable

On solid ground

You are canvass and backdrop

All in one

Swoop

 

And glide

In a most translucent way

That there may be less chance

Of foul and etched irritants

From gilded feathers

Plucked

Of a nuisance.

 

TDM

It is Never Enough

I heard once

That slumping through

Moss was enough

To satisfy any

Lust for adventure,

That turning

Pebbles over in my

Hand would be

Rugged enough,

That I should not

Dirty my dress

Or get bugs in my hair,

But I have also heard

That rolling

Over hills and under

Starry skies is never

Enough for a

Single lifetime,

It is never enough

To quench a thirst

For dipping toes in lakes,

Washing hands

In rivers and falling

Asleep to the crickets

Buzz, humming in my ear

Whilst grass and

Earth so cool

Under my body

Tickles before I become

A treat for tiny

Bugs whom I implore

To be gentle

To leave a little something

For myself.

T. DM

P.S. I would love some feedback on this piece, mostly regarding whether or not it sounds incomplete. Cheers readers!